You See, I Am A Poet, And

Life Is A Quest And Love A Quarrel

That Which Has Quelled Me, Lives With Me, Accomplice In Catastrophe.

I Would Blossom If I Were A Rose.

Listen, Children: Your Father Is Dead. From His Old Coats I'll Make You Little Jackets; I'll Make You Little Trousers From His Old Pants. There'll Be In His Pockets Things He Used To Put There, Keys And Pennies Covered With Tobacco; Dan Shall Have The Pennies To Save In His Bank; Anne Shall Have The Keys To Make A Pretty Noise With. Life Must Go On, Though Good Men Die; Anne, Eat Your Breakfast; Dan, Take Your Medicine; Life Must Go On; I Forget Just Why.

Her Lawn Looks Like A Meadow, And If She Mows The Place She Leaves The Clover Standing And The Queen Anne's Lace.